“Ah.”
“What say I give you a quick tour of our offices; introduce you around?” Martin said.
“Okay.”
12
While introductions were being made at Martin’s place of employment, Blake was hard at work washing dishes at the Starlite Diner, and Jeremy’s friends were at Liberty High School.
Jeremy was content for the moment not to have to watch his dad work, and instead being shuffled from one co-worker to the next, from office to office. The major bustle was in the main room where row upon row of cubicles backed into each other. All the offices were behind closed doors, and reserved for the big wigs. The cubicles were where Jeremy met the most interesting people. They were all hard at work, clacking away on their keyboards, staring intently at their computer screens, until Martin spoke their names, and they looked up.
The most interesting, because of her attractiveness was a woman by the name of Veronica Sawyer. She was twenty-three, with shoulder length hair, which looked like it had once been dark and curly, but was now blonde and stick straight. The bleaching and straightening had made it a bit drier, but didn’t detract from her blue eyes, sensuously plump lips, and curvaceous form. Her professional, charcoal gray tunic dress hugged every one of her curves. She wore a short black vest over the dress, to detract from her large breasts, but somehow only served to accentuate them. Her rear was equally full and toned.
“Pop your eyes back in their sockets, and put your tongue back in your mouth,” Martin said, as they walked away.
“Does Mom know about her?” Jeremy said, meaning had she
had a look at who he worked with.
“No, and she never will.”
While he was being introduced to a Bob something or other, a skinny twenty-something kid in an ink-stained white dress shirt and dark khaki jeans that were a bit too loose on him, even with a belt on, popped into the cubicle.
“Mail,” the kid slurred. Jeremy could tell there was something off about him right away. It turned out the mailroom boy was kind of slow, but the way the kid’s eyes rolled left to right constantly, as if he were searching for someone in his periphery, creeped Jeremy out. Besides his slight retardation, there was something shifty about him; the kind of person Jeremy imagined hearing about on the local news going nuts and shooting everyone in the workplace. He was glad when the kid went.
His father must have sensed his distress. “Oh don’t mind him,” Martin said. “That’s just Ricky Lyles. He’s a bit of a character, but harmless.”
In comparison, the rest of the people his father introduced Jeremy to, were as dull and lifeless as butter knives, without the serrated edges.
The rest of the day his father mostly spent at the computer. It wasn’t until lunch time, when Martin went out to get food for the two of them that the strange thing happened.
13
When it was Blake’s time for lunch, he went to a sandwich shop across the street, and sat in an alley behind it on an open wooden crate that was lying on its side against the wall, and ate. As much as he liked the guys he worked with he didn’t want to get too comfortable with them. The less they knew about him the better.
As he quietly ate his sandwich, a turkey and Swiss on wheat
bread, he heard the clacking of high heels. Blake looked up and to his
right and caught a glimpse of a woman in dark business clothes
heading toward him. She appeared to be passing through; although why she’d chosen this particular alley he could only guess. She glanced at him briefly as she passed and nodded. Blake nodded back. She was quite lovely, in her mid to late thirties, with chestnut brown curly hair that had been heavily sprayed and spritzed, and exquisite green eyes.
She stopped a few feet from where she passed him and looked back over her shoulder. Blake had already looked down again, when he felt her watching. She walked back toward him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Pardon me for intruding. I didn’t see a wedding ring, and I was wondering why a handsome man like you was sitting alone in an alley?”
Blake chuckled. “Okay, what are you selling? I’m assuming you don’t usually pick up men with that line.”
She laughed in return. “All right, you got me. I’m not really selling anything. I’m in advertising, and there’s a campaign we’re working on that I think you’d be perfect for. I’m a photographer...”
“You must be joking,” Blake interrupted.
She looked a little irritated by that statement. “No, I assure you I am not. Think it over. Here.” She pulled a business card from her inside vest pocket. “Call me if you decide you’d like to do it.” Blake took it.
“My name’s Andrea.” She offered her hand and Blake shook it.
“Mark,” he said, “I’ll think about it, but I don’t really like my photograph taken.”
“I understand. You will be properly compensated for your time, should you change your mind.”
Blake smiled, nodded. “Thank you for the offer Andrea. I’ll consider it.”
He was merely being polite by saying so. Being photographed for an ad would definitely inhibit his attempts at anonymity. Still, it was nice to be offered. There was something about this Andrea woman that peeked his curiosity, beyond her beauty. His first inclination would normally have been to throw the business card out as soon as she’d left. Instead, he placed it safely in his wallet, tucking it away.
Instantly a pang of pain, guilt, and remorse washed through him upon this action. He hadn’t thought of other women much, if at all, since his wife was brutally murdered almost five years ago. Blake was wary of bringing any woman into the world he lived in. And guilt was only the first reason. Bitterness washed over him, and he ripped a piece off his sandwich with his teeth, chasing it down with a can of iced tea. The business card remained in his wallet, forgotten for now.
14
Jeremy wandered the floor while his father went to get lunch for them. He nodded as he passed a few people he recognized from introductions. Walking past cubicles and peeking into the few open office doors, he came across a room where the door was faintly ajar. It looked like it might have been an office but he got the impression of emptiness. He pushed the door open a bit and peeked in. The carpeted floor was littered with debris; an old wooden desk, dusty and scattered with papers stood in one corner of the room; and three floor length mirrors were propped up against the wall, large spider web cracks splitting them in several places. There was an open door to the right that looked like a closet, and stacks of boxes were falling out of it. Curious, Jeremy sauntered in.
The carpet was old and musty, brown with disuse and mottled with blotches where many cups of coffee and other beverages must have been spilled. He was picking papers out of one of the scattered boxes in the closet, when he saw something in the open doorway from the floor outside reflected in the shattered mirrors that made him gasp and look up from the papers in surprise. A creature, passing the open doorway, walking as if it were a man, but it was a bald grey hideous thing with leathery wings that were tucked at its side, the tips of them near the shoulders ending in large hooked
horns. Its legs were bent backward awkwardly, ending in what
appeared to be hooves. The image of this creature, passing from one broken mirror to another, shimmering like a mirage between the cracks, was nothing if not surreal. It was only several seconds, and Jeremy wasn’t entirely sure he had seen it at all.
When he rushed to the doorway and looked out into the hall, whatever it was had joined the throng of workers leaving for lunch. And they all looked human. But it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be what he thought, what Blake had talked about. Because if it was, then one of The Others worked here with his father.
15
The next day Jeremy had nearly forgotten the strange event at Camtech Industries. He had to work at the Pizza Palace. It was officially the weekend- Saturday. Tony picked him up for work, and on the way revealed to Jeremy for the first time that he was gay, and that made Jerem
y forget everything else. By Sunday, he’d told the rest of the group like Tony had asked him to. They all acted a little peculiar around him at first, surprised by the news, but in the end they were all still the same people; they were still friends. Monday they were all back in school and things were normal again.
16
Staci was still friends with the popular girls, more so with the attractive ones. Since she’d left Tammy and Rona behind many months ago (their own insecurities had made them mean) she mostly hung out with lookers. It wasn’t a conscious choice, and there were a few of those that thought their stuff didn’t stink, but as long as they didn’t talk badly about her group of guy friends, that was a point in their favor. Staci tried not to be judgmental and look at the good things about them. Sure, they’d never date guys like Myron, but that didn’t necessarily make them bad people, just somewhat shallow and
superficial like most.
It was with such a group of friends that Staci found herself at the lunch table when the boys approached.
Jeremy, Tony, Johnny, and Myron said, “Hi Stace!” almost in unison.
“Hey guys!” she said. “These are my friends, Amy, Jesse, and Kristen.”
“Ladies,” Johnny winked and nodded. They giggled.
“This is Tony, Johnny, and Myron…” Staci said, taking Jeremy’s hand and guiding him to where she sat, “and my boyfriend Jeremy.” She presented her cheek and Jeremy kissed it.
“Hi sweetie,” Staci said. He briefly flushed red, but then pride swelled through him as well, and he grinned.
Staci’s friends instantly sized him up. Amy said nothing, which seemed to indicate neutrality on the matter. Kristen said, “He’s got potential.”
“Kinda cute,” Jesse said.
That was about as close to praise as she was likely to get out of them. At least she didn’t have to worry about them putting the moves on him, and they weren’t hating on her choice of man.
“I’ll see you later?” Staci asked Jeremy.
“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed.
She looked at the others. “I’ll catch up with you guys after school, okay?”
“Yep, we’ll catch you later,” Tony said.
They waved goodbye.
17
When they met up after school Tony mentioned their night at the pool hall when Jeremy and Staci had been on their date. Johnny mentioned the odd thing he saw in the mirrors, and Jeremy’s eyes immediately opened up. He told them about what he’d seen at his father’s work.
“We have to talk to Blake,” Myron said.
Instead of going straight home they took Tony’s car to the Hillside Bed and Breakfast, and hoped that he was there.
18
It was Rudy that answered the door. He recognized Staci, but not the other kids.
“Staci, how are you?”
“I’m good Mr. Sedrick.”
“What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if Bla… um Mark was here.” She could have kicked herself, almost breaking Blake’s cover like that.
“Yes, I believe he’s upstairs. Should I send him down?”
“Could you please? I have to pass a message along from my mom.”
“All right.” He turned and noticed his wife was near the stairs. “Oh Pauline, could you fetch Mr. Trimble? Staci is here with some friends to see him.”
She smiled across the room, “Of course. Hello Staci.”
Staci waved, “Hi Mrs. Sedrick.”
The rest of them stood there and let Staci work her magic. Blake came down with his coat on- the trench coat, already prepared for action. They imagined he had a few weapons stashed underneath.
Rudy and Pauline looked at him oddly. Perhaps they found it strange that a guy just passing through town should be such good friends with the local kids. They could accept that he knew Staci, possibly through her parents, which Staci had implied on the phone when she was trying to find him accommodations. The other four they didn’t get, although they could just have been tagging along. He might not know them at all. Whatever suspicions they had seemed to be soothed by the easy camaraderie they saw when Blake greeted them.
When Blake stepped outside, out of their view, it was another
story.
“This had better be important,” he said.
“We’re sorry Blake, we didn’t know how else to get a hold of you,” Jeremy said.
Blake waved it off. “All right, what’s going on then?”
Johnny told his story first, and then Jeremy told his.
“Oh dear, this is troublesome.”
“So what are we going to do?” Myron asked.
“That’s the question isn’t it?” Blake said. “I believe I’m going to have to find a way to pay a visit to Camtech and find out exactly who the Other is working there first.
19
With the cap, tool belt, and workman’s overalls one could hardly tell who Fulton Blake was at all, and that was the idea. Through the lower lobby of the industrial building to the eighth floor level that housed the offices of Camtech Industries, he walked right through, arousing no suspicion. Under the pretense he was there to check on some wiring, he was led to the electrical room. It’d taken him a few days to produce a phony work order, but it appeared to pass the test. As he walked through the main floor, he scanned the cubicles for any suspicious characters. He wanted to avoid, if at all possible, Jeremy’s father. He didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, and he shut the door to the electrical room behind him. The good thing about the tool belt was that he was able to conceal several weapons in zippered or buttoned pouches, namely a grenade he hoped he wouldn’t need to use, a stake (half the usual size), a metal crucifix, a clove of garlic, and a vial of holy water. He prayed he wouldn’t have to use any of them in so public a place. Blake was only here to identify, and then he could formulate a plan to get him or her alone. Of course, he was also dealing with something he didn’t quite understand. In all his years of vampire hunting he knew of The Others, but never had to deal with one face to face. If they were as powerful as he’d heard, it would not
be a simple thing to kill one.
In his front pocket Blake carried a compact mirror. He would have to wait for the opportune time to use it and scan the potentials, in the hopes that the Other would reveal itself in its reflection. In his back pocket he carried a hair comb, assuming that he could use it as an excuse to look in the mirror.
After some time passed and he pretended to be done in the electrical room, he made his way through the hub of the operation where all the cubicles stood, and checked himself in the compact mirror, angling it just so, so that he could see enough of every employee in each cubicle. After ten or so of them with no result, he stopped at one and asked if there was a coffee machine. There was one near the restrooms, at the back of the room, which afforded him a look at most of the floor; just what he had hoped for. As he started to pour himself a cup he noticed someone odd- a skinny kid with greasy black hair that he ran his hand through was going from cubicle to cubicle, muttering to himself. He pushed a small cart on wheels beside him, and it looked like he was handing mail from it to the workers.
Hmm, Blake thought, raising the mirror. The kid was jittery, slightly retarded, and odd to say the least, but he was clean; well, at least not vampiric. It wasn’t an act. Blake moved the mirror from side to side. It was tough to see into the cubicles from here. There were only three employees besides the mail boy that were walking around and they all checked. Then Blake heard a door swing open, perhaps from one of the offices, and watched the mail boy react. His jitters suddenly became more pronounced, and he started pointing.
“Monster, monster!” Ricky Lyles said. Blake turned to see who he was looking at. A balding man with a vast belly was hobbling over to one of the cubicles. The employees laughed at Ricky.
“That’s just the boss Ricky,” one of them said.
“He always creeps out when he sees the boss,” an incredible looking woman said.<
br />
“Yes, yes, I’m a monster Ricky,” said the boss patronizingly,
“I’m sure there are a few workers who would agree with you. Now
move it along.”
Fulton Blake angled the mirror at the man to confirm what he already knew, who Mr. Gladstone was. The demon that smiled in the mirror had wickedly sharp teeth, and a grin no one could love. Its wings were curled by its side, hugging its arms, its hands ending in long tendril-like talons. While it wore a suit in its guise, the gray beast before him was naked, its slimy phallus crude and veiny against its leg. The legs themselves began normally but curved backward, and the beast, although appearing to walk like a man, had a gait more like a horse, stalking on cloven hooves.
Mr. Gladstone might have been a jolly fat man at one point in his life, but that was only the mask he wore now, because it was the only one he could to pass as human. Blake put the mirror away. He didn’t need to see anymore. Just then the boss man looked over at him.
“Say, what are you doing over there?”
Blake shook his head, confused. Not until he felt the hot liquid burning his skin did he realize it. He had overfilled the cup and was pouring hot coffee over his hand.
“Owww!” he screamed, dropping the cup and the coffeepot.
“Dag blast it! Look what you’ve done you fool!”
Blake shook his hand vigorously, yelping in pain. The fat man rush/waddled over to him, and Blake unprepared as he was, was sure he was going to attack. Instead he grabbed the overturned coffeepot and cup Blake had let fall and picked them up off the carpet.
“You dang stained the carpet!” he yelled in a thick southern drawl, “Where’d you get your license, the school of ACME?”
Then Blake saw the man’s eyes pull away from the coffee stains and seize on the mirror, the compact Blake thought he’d slipped back into his front pocket, but had actually only slid across the front of his jeans and dropped as he’d stood staring at Mr. Gladstone. It still lay partway open, and Blake saw the dawning in the man’s eyes of what had just happened. If he’d frozen then, that might have been the end of him, but as Mr. Gladstone rose from his crouch to confront him, Blake reached in his overalls and smashed the vial of holy water
The Pit in the Woods: A Mercy Falls Mythos Page 46